


Intransience

by NeoSometimes (XiuChen4Ever)



Category: VIXX
Genre: M/M, Rain, Weather Spirits, so much rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-12
Updated: 2019-09-12
Packaged: 2020-07-31 14:47:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20116822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XiuChen4Ever/pseuds/NeoSometimes
Summary: Hakyeon just wants to be remembered.  Taekwoon finds him impossible to forget.





	Intransience

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neverwhere (nekrateholic)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekrateholic/gifts).
  * Inspired by [summer downpour](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13394283) by [neverwhere (nekrateholic)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nekrateholic/pseuds/neverwhere). 

> Dear friend, it was a pleasure to remix your fic! I do hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoy all your fics.

#  ỼỼỼỼỼỼỼỼỼỼỼ

If rain is described as dreary, Hakyeon would like to point out that it’s rather hard to be otherwise given the circumstances.

He certainly hadn’t set out to be dreary. But it’s difficult to keep a sunny attitude when rain has become a metaphor for melancholy. Even the phrase  _ sunny attitude _ implies the lack of rain.

And Won Geun has enough of that particular attitude for everyone, anyway.

The world’s population depends on rain to survive just as much as on the sunshine the flower-loving guy provides. It’s entirely unfair that while Won Geun’s the emblem of warmth and life, Hakyeon is only memorialized as a background for breakup scenes and funerals. That is, when pop culture bothers to include him at all.

If anyone should be symbolic of death it should be Minseok. A snow-covered landscape should be bleak and inhospitable, the very picture of lifelessness. Yet he’s celebrated in song and poetry as beauty and stillness, romanticized to the point that lovers strive to have a date during the first snow of the season.

Nobody turns their face to the sky and tries to catch raindrops on their tongue. Nobody laughs in delight as the skies open up and rain drenches the world. They just duck their heads and hurry through it, shielding themselves with umbrellas and newspapers, grimacing if they get the least bit wet.

But that’s not what bothers Hakyeon the most.

The worst part about the world’s reaction to his presence is that he’s entirely out of mind as soon as the droplets stop falling from the sky.

He’s merely an interruption. An inconvenience brushed aside as soon as possible. And then the world goes on without him as if he’d never been there at all.

“It’s your turn,” Eunji says, sitting down beside Hakyeon on the edge of Aether, the there-but-not-there realm that the weather stays in when not currently in action. 

“I know,” Hakyeon says, then gives the girl beside him a questioning look. Her hair is merely floating idly around her head instead of being blown across her face as it is when she’s working. “Off duty today?”

Eunji nods. “It’s just you and Sojin,” she says, then prods his shoulder not so gently. “Her clouds have made it gloomy enough down there, so quit moping and go.”

Sighing, Hakyeon gets up and heads out, giving Minseok and Yeri a wide berth. He adores them both, especially his little “niece,” but the steadfast romantics are nearly insufferable these days. Minseok is always drifting on and on about his precious little Jongdae and the way the snowboarder travels to various mountains to meet the powder as early as possible every year. Hakyeon does not need to hear yet more stories about how the pair of snowbunnies bones like rabbits between their conquests of the slopes.

Yeri is almost as bad, getting hazy-eyed whenever she mentions her darling Sooyoung, how it’s supposed to be fog creeping in on cat’s feet but actually Sooyoung was the one that sidled up to her. Fog is supposed to be mysterious and creepy but Yeri is just soft and cozy instead, content to curl up with Sooyoung on misty mornings like the cat she denies association with.

Disgusting, both of them.

Yeri squeals at something Minseok says, triggering a belly laugh from the white-haired guy. Hakyeon is suddenly more than willing to drop out of Aether to drench the land below.

He waves at Sojin as he tumbles through her silver-lined efforts, hurtling down to plate the pavement to match the clouds. And as usual, the streets empty once Hakyeon arrives.

Empty except for one man making no effort to escape the falling drops. He’s staring up at the sky, blinking away the moisture that clumps his long dark lashes into dramatic fans against pale skin. As if he feels Hakyeon’s studying gaze, the man looks down, dark eyes curious as rivulets trace the elegant contours of his smooth cheeks to coalesce at the rounded point of his chin.

Hakyeon smiles, pleased to have company outside of Aether for once.

“You enjoy the rain,” he comments.

The man blinks again, sending a dozen more droplets to splash against soaked cement.

“I do,” he replies.

Hakyeon’s smile grows. “All the people I’ve seen here hide when it’s raining.” His voice drips with bitterness he can’t quite swallow. “They take out their big umbrellas or hide inside buildings. There’s always rain in the movies—if it’s not a foolproof sign that someone’s sad then it’s that ‘dancing in the rain.’” 

Hakyeon looks around at the empty streets, then tilts his face to the sterling sky. “They say that, but out in the real world, they all hide.” When Hakyeon returns his gaze to the stranger, resignation pools in his throat. “It gets lonely, sometimes.”

His companions in the Aether are part of him of course, but not being alone isn’t the same as not being lonely. Just as the rain can’t resist pattering on roofs and roadways, Hakyeon can’t resist chattering with a human when the opportunity is presented. It’s probably petulant, the satisfaction he gets from reiterating injustice to someone new, someone who hasn’t heard it all a thousand times and more. A fresh audience for his maudlin words. Constantly fresh, because as the wetness evaporates from grass and pavement, so does Hakyeon evaporate from human minds.

This particular human is beautiful and Hakyeon is set to drench the earth off and on for the better part of a week. Might as well entertain himself while he’s here, even if stealing these fleeting sprinkles of attention makes it that much harder to return to the Aether, unattached and unmissed.

But for now, Hakyeon is unwilling to heed tomorrow’s sorrow. And the stranger just listens to him ramble without turning away in boredom or disgust. Instead, the human’s eyes open wider, drowning Hakyeon in a liquid gaze that makes him feel fully seen for the first time in a long time. 

The rain watches, mesmerized, as the stranger lifts his hand to catch a few fat drops in the hollow of his palm, lips separating at the soft splats against his skin.

“I’m not hiding,” the human says.

Hakyeon feels the smile spread over his lips again. He holds out his own hand, pleased when the stranger answers both smile and handshake.

“No,” Hakyeon says. “No, you’re not.”

#  ỼỼỼỼỼỼỼỼỼỼỼ

If rain is described with the same verb as love, Hakyeon would like to suggest that this can hardly be a coincidence. Falling is all rain can do and it’s all Hakyeon can do as he follows the intriguing human around like a lovesick puppy. Hakyeon falls easily, willingly, time and time again. And time and time again he redissolves into the air from whence he fell, leaving not even a shadow of himself behind in sight or memory.

This human likes to walk for long stretches of time without talking, their footsteps squishing in the film of water coating the street. The sound is almost lost in the murmur of the silver splashing on the pavement, of the burble of the swirling gutter running alongside them.

But he readily answers Hakyeon’s questions, slipping smiles among his replies that the rain can’t help but return. So Hakyeon learns this quiet but lion-hearted human is called Taekwoon, he’s a university student studying music composition, that he has three older sisters, and that despite his apparent introversion he secretly dreams of becoming a musical actor.

And that he likes coffee. Taekwoon really,  _ really _ likes coffee.

It’s well past midnight when they finally stop talking about coffee and actually get some. Well, Hakyeon gets tea. Earl Grey with cream. It’s called a “London Fog” and it reminds Hakyeon of his soft, sweet niece. It doesn’t take as long to prepare as Taekwoon’s drink even though it looks for all the world like plain black coffee to Hakyeon.

The rain waits for Taekwoon outside the shop, just a gentle, steady shower that catches the gold of the streetlights to make haloes around the lamps. Hakyeon leans against one wrought-iron post, warm cup in hand, soft smile hidden behind it when Taekwoon finally steps out of the shop and sidles over, sticking beneath the awning of the building.

“I thought you didn’t hide from rain,” Hakyeon says, swallowing his smile.

“I’m not hiding.” The human presents a smile along with his plain-looking coffee for Hakyeon’s inspection, careful to keep the cup from catching any drips from the canvas over his head. “I like having coffee when it’s raining but I hate watered down coffee. Even if it’s rainwater doing it.”

Hakyeon gives Taekwoon a quizzical look. “You could always keep the lid on?” He lifts his own cup, black plastic shielding the fog from the rain.

“I could,” the human nods. “It would keep it warm longer, too, but I like the smell of coffee mixed with the smell of rain.”

Hakyeon watches as Taekwoon lifts the cup to his face and inhales, then tips his face skyward and inhales again. He can’t help but smile at this intriguing human.

“You’re so particular,” he says, smile twisting to a wry chuckle as Taekwoon sips only to hiss over a burned tongue. “Do you have to hurt yourself with it, though?” 

The rain reaches out to caress the human’s throat, soothing heat with the chill of the sky. Taekwoon takes a sharp breath and Hakyeon drops his fingers to his side. 

“I still don’t get why you’re drinking coffee so late, either.” His smile is softer now. 

“Three A.M. is early morning, technically.” Taekwoon gestures at Hakyeon with his still-steaming cup. “I’m going to need a lot of those to make up for the lack of sleep.”

Hakyeon frowns. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have kept you for so long.” He hadn’t meant to make his evening’s companion suffer due to his tendency to prolong the inevitable.

“It’s fine, really,” the human blurts. His dark eyes glint between his rain-slicked hair, reflecting the shine of the gilded rain and the shadow of Hakyeon’s longing.

The smile that spreads over Hakyeon’s face is wide enough to stretch his cheeks in a way that seems both natural and entirely alien.

#  ỼỼỼỼỼỼỼỼỼỼỼ

If rain is described as soft, Hakyeon can only begrudgingly agree. Oh, he can be hard and cold at times but he can’t deny his tender side. The rain doesn’t set out to crush the flowers. The rain wants them to bloom.

And bloom Taekwoon does, smiling all through breakfast with one of the human’s friends, lunch at yet another coffee shop, and dinner (and more coffee) at a food truck. At some point, their hands brush and Hakyeon tangles their fingers together. At another point, Hakyeon steals stray crema from Taekwoon’s lips with his own. And when the sun sinks from behind silver clouds to sleep below the curve of the earth, Hakyeon braces himself to say goodbye.

Taekwoon invites the rain to come home with him instead.

It’s not the first time Hakyeon has dallied with a human. All the residents of the Aether do from time to time. They’re all a part of each other, different aspects of the water and air from which they were born. They’re closer than siblings and have zero desire for each other, but that doesn’t mean they’re without desire entirely.

As suits their natures, there are those that prefer to stick around and dally with a single soul for the duration and those that prefer more fleeting attachments or no attachments at all. Eunji doesn’t care at all that she’s out of human minds as soon as she stops caressing their skin and toying with their hair. She’s the emblem of change for a reason, and her own attention is always on what comes next rather than what has already blown by.

But Hakyeon does care. He’s a nurturer. He wants to see the blooming of the life he feeds. He does not want to shrink into puddles of shallow memories, obliterated by the splash of someone’s boot.

“Will you remember me tomorrow?” the rain whispers when they’re skin against skin, keeping Taekwoon’s hands away from his face, trying as hard as possible to be truly  _ seen. _

Taekwoon’s body burns against his. Taekwoon’s eyes burn, too, as they lock onto Hakyeon’s face. 

“Yes,” the human promises, as if he can sear the rain into his memory with the intensity of his desire.

It’s a heady thought even if it’s impossible. Hakyeon lets his lips lead his body into the deluge of sensation that is  _ now, _ hoping to wash his own mind blank in the flood of pleasure that follows.

The rain keeps trying to wash the human from his thoughts the next day. He's incredibly unsuccessful, but stubbornness makes him resist the urge to return to the human that brought him such enjoyment. He can't keep himself from watching him, though.

Human memory is inevitably transient, so Hakyeon holds himself aloof and above, observing the man with defensive detachment. He ignores Taekwoon’s disorientation at waking up alone. His confusion about the unexpected date on the calendar. His frustration at the missing memories. He also ignores the way his body misses Taekwoon’s touch.

But the human is a tenacious creature. The rain can’t help but soften into a drizzle to spare Taekwoon’s coffee as he retraces the path he wandered with the gap in his memories. It’s because he feels bad for causing such a large void in the human’s subconscious. 

It’s not because of the heat that engulfed his body when the human lifted coffee-flavored lips away from his morning mug of brew to gasp Hakyeon’s name in an echo of the ecstasy they’d shared.

The third time the man wanders into the park where they’d met—the park where Taekwoon had taken the plunge and invited Hakyeon into his bed—Hakyeon lets himself fall toward the human’s solid steadiness, gravity calling the rain home like it always has.

His feet carry him toward the bench occupied by the pensive form hunched over yet another cup of coffee, eyes closed as if in contemplation or prayer.

“I thought you didn’t like drinking coffee in the rain,” Hakyeon says, because it’s more dignified than  _ please let me belong in your thoughts. _

Taekwoon looks up at him, blinking the drizzle away from those magnetic eyes.

“This one is special,” the human finally says.

Hakyeon sits on the bench as well, clasping his hands in his lap to keep from reaching for the man beside him. “The coffee or the rain?”  _ Please let it be the rain. _

Taekwoon blinks again, rain-clumped lashes broadcasting vulnerability that belies the stoicism broadcast by the rest of his beautiful face.

“Maybe both?” the human says.

Hakyeon laughs softly. “You remember me.” 

It’s not a question. Hakyeon can’t bear to make it a question even though he hardly dares to hope.

“I don’t remember everything,” Taekwoon says quietly, “but I remember you. I looked for you.”

Hakyeon smothers a wince. “I know. I saw. I tried to… wash you away, I think. From my mind, from my body. I tried to be the sad, rain cliché.” The lifeless rattle that escapes his chest may have been a reflexive attempt at a laugh before Hakyeon chokes on it. “But I remember. I remember everything.”

He always remembers. 

Taekwoon gazes at him, heedless of the microdroplets invading his coffee. “The rain,” he blurts. “You’re connected to the rain somehow.”

Wry mirth once again strangles to death in Hakyeon’s throat. He’s never had to have the “morning after” conversation. The cringe is killing him and he relishes every second.

“I guess you could say I’m rain itself. Fickle, annoying. Something people like to hide from.” 

He braces for the human to dismiss him, to walk away now that the mystery of his forgotten one night stand has been solved. But the human meets his gaze, hair dripping on his collar as he looks the rain in the face.

“I’m not hiding,” Taekwoon says, and Hakyeon knows that he is seen.

A rainbow curves across the sky, mirroring Hakyeon’s smile.

“No,” the rain murmurs, sliding close enough to rest a hand on Taekwoon’s thigh. His smile broadens when the human’s hand drops to twine his fingers between Hakyeon’s. 

“No, you’re not.”

#  ỼỼỼỼỼỼỼỼỼỼỼ


End file.
